Salvation
by Legitwit
Summary: You don't walk out of a war without paying a price. Flippy's price is that his mind is plagued with every mistake he's made and every life he's taken. He is forced to spend every minute of every day playing with PTSD. But it seems his chance for redemption will appear as a nervous redheaded girl.
1. Introduction

**Salvation and Redemption**

Flippy was standing in a village surrounded by a thin woodland, leading a squad with no recognizable faces, tasked by a CO he couldn't remember the name of, to take an objective he had no recorded information on, all he knew how to do at that moment was engage any and all enemies on sight with lethal force and to do so without hesitation. He was carrying a simple compact assault rifle, it looked like an early model M16, possibly an M16A1, and there was an under-barrel grenade launcher fixed to the railing along the rifle. He could tell by weight alone that he was carrying a lot of ammo.

There was something off about the village, it was deathly quiet, for an objective of high priority, it looked abandoned. Then there were his squad mates, they looked so familiar, yet he couldn't pin them to a name or memory. As they advanced through the streets, Flippy could hear faint whispers, running along his ears like a gentle breeze, _why did you do it? They were innocent civilians! They didn't need to die!_ The voice sounded so familiar….

Then he saw it, the sandbag walls, the watch towers, the barbed wire, the troops, it was all there. The military base wasn't exceptionally large, but it must have held at least a platoon of troops, not mentioning any vehicles and what seemed to be a holding pen. "Sir!" one of the squad members called out, waving him over. "What is it?" he asked intently, "We have the artillery lined up, here, this is the marker."

Flippy was handed a monocular with a laser sight to relay the target coordinates for the shells to start flying. When he peered through the sight though, he could see what looked like civilians, in the base, walking around casually talking to the troops stationed there. The faint sound of a radio filled his ears, "Bravo 7, this is Baseplate Echo, target has been relayed, I repeat, target has been relayed, ready to fire".

"Cease fire!" Flippy heard himself say, dread filling his stomach, "there are civilians in the base, I repeat, there are civilians in the base!" He realized then that this same situation had happened to him 2 years ago, but the events at hand pushed the memory aside. "Bravo 7, cease fire denied, we have orders to fire immediately, keep your heads down." Flippy saw a mother hugging her child, unknowing of the fiery death that was going to rain down on them. "You can't! There's innoc-" his sentence was cut off as the entire area was littered in explosions and fire, buildings were blown to pieces, the scent of burning flesh filling his nostrils, screams of agony filling his ears, burning bodies surrounding him.

His world had transformed from an almost peaceful village to the clearest definition anyone would ever have of hell. Surrounded by fire and death, all of his squad mates hanging from telephone poles, his friends' bodies covered in blood. "It wasn't my fault!" he yelled to no one and everyone. _This is one of so many things you have lived through, so many things you could and couldn't stop, so many lives ended by the push of a button and the pull of a trigger_ Flippy realized the soft whisper in his ear was his own, and then he saw his arms soaked in blood, he was holding a bowie knife, serrated on one side, completely red.

The mother lay with her child, dead in a heap of bodies.

Flippy awoke screaming.

**Author's note:** This is the first chapter, in all of it's amateur glory! It shouldn't be long before I post the next one,

but I'll be looking at the reviews first to see how you've liked it so far!

-Legitwit


	2. A man in a fedora

**AUTHORS NOTE:** Thanks for the reviews! Here is the next chapter, as promised.

* * *

Flippy awoke screaming.

His vision was spinning and his heart rate was beating at three times its normal speed, he felt ice move through his veins, the heat leeched from his body. But he slowly recovered, letting his heart slow to a normal pace, letting his vision still, as he realized that he was no longer _there_ any more. No more fire, no more death, it was just a dream induced by his PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), like every other night.

Flippy threw the covers off of him and groggily stood up, knowing that he wasn't getting back to sleep even if he'd wanted to. Glancing over at the clock, he was surprised to see that it was 7:30 in the morning; he usually never gets much sleep.

He went to his shower, surrounded by a cylindrical piece of blurred safety glass (incase he ever had an "episode" while he or someone else was in there), set it to as hot as he could manage, stepped in and then tried unsuccessfully to let the water wash away the horrors of the night. Two minutes later, he stepped out, dried himself off and went through the medicine cabinet to find the bottle of pills his doctor recommended to suppress the flashbacks, dry swallowing 2 of them. Looking in the mirror, he decided to leave his stubble unshaved; shaving would only make the scars more visible.

Flippy got dressed in simple blue jeans, along with his combat jacket and a black T-shirt underneath, already adorned with his dog tags. He then made himself a cup of coffee. He liked it black, with nothing added; another taste he acquired from the war that he couldn't change. He sat at his kitchen table, coffee in hand, looking out the window at a clear sky, the sun shining. Any normal person would describe it as a beautiful day, to Flippy though, it looked the same as any other day of the year, he couldn't find a difference.

Finishing his coffee in one gulp, Flippy got up and looked over at his wall, one side of his living room he dedicated to his "souvenirs", though they were more like reminders, weapons and equipment he couldn't let go of from all of the places he had been to in his tour of duty.

- A hand-crafted dagger, it's short and thin blade still had a red tint to it since the day he pulled it out of his friend's corpse in the Middle-East, looking at it still made his stomach twist.

- A large Machete, his weapon of choice from his operations in Africa, its blade, long and serrated, kept specially clean and sharpened. Though the wooden hilt still showed signs of use, subtle details like the small notches in the side and the remains of washed off camouflage, plus a small ring of red where the blade started.

- There was his helmet; it had plenty of marks from deflected bullets, a couple of stains of mahogany-crimson on the sides.

- Next to it were his official papers, pinned to the wall with a bowie knife, declaring his discharge from the military.

- And the biggest and most menacing artifact of all was a large rifle with the name "Samantha" inscribed into the metal on the right side. Samantha was a Barrett M28 Anti-Material rifle, bolt action and extremely accurate even with its .50 caliber rounds. Its ballistic scope was rusted, but the tallies taken for every confirmed kill still visibly wound around it. Samantha had initially belonged to Flippy's old friend, before he had been stabbed to death with the dagger in the Middle-East. From there, Flippy decided to hold onto the rifle in the memory of his friend, adding to the kills inscribed on the scope until his service ended. Since then, Samantha was mounted to his wall, as one more memory he wasn't letting go of.

The sudden trip down memory lane had started to make him feel uncomfortable in his living room, so he decided to go on a walk, grabbing his pills –just in case-, putting on his Beret and lacing up his old and dulled combat boots and locking the door behind him.

It was around eight in the morning in the mid-summer season, the sun was already shining and birds were singing in the trees. There were puddles everywhere, which meant it must have been raining during the night, though he hadn't noticed it, he had been preoccupied. He decided to walk straight down the right side of the street passing by a park with a mother and child sitting on a bench; he glanced briefly at them before he looked away, the nightmare still fresh in his mind.

Every nightmare he had seemed to be based on everything that happened to him during his tour of duty, sometimes mixing events, or being very symbolic. And somehow he knew he would never get over it.

He saw a bridge up ahead, moving to the center of it; he sat on the edge, looking at the river below, the ripples in the water were soothing to his conscience, allowing him to lose himself in his thoughts.

He thought about his life, he never finished his first year of University, since he got drafted before he finished. He didn't have a job; he got his money from his military pension. He didn't eat more than he needed and didn't buy much often, so he had a fair amount of money saved up for no real occasion. He didn't really celebrate any holidays with his family; he barely stayed in contact with them. He spent most of his time sitting around and dealing with his memories, trying to form a sense of peace. Always without success._ If only…._

His thoughts were interrupted by a duck quacking as it swam past him. Flippy decided to get back up and continue walking, back down the bridge the way he came, but then he turned off onto a different direction, walking instead past shops and restaurants. Seeing the signs reminded him that he hadn't yet eaten that day, realizing this he decided to take a shortcut through an alleyway.

He could tell right away that there was something wrong, all that time spent creeping through jungles and villages gave him an acute sense for hostile presences. He heard footsteps behind him.

" 'ey you! Turn around!" a stranger behind him growled in a thick jersey accent.

Flippy whirled around to find a figure wearing a trench coat and a fedora.

"Oh, and who might you be?" Flippy didn't even try to keep the menace from his voice, whoever this was, they were looking for trouble, and Flippy wasn't having any of it.

"Name's Lifty, and I'd appreciate it if ya put ya hands in the air and handed over all ya money and that fancy lookin' hat while yer at it."

Flippy didn't like where this was going. "How about we agree to disagree?"

"How about I blow your fuckin' brains out?"

The moment Flippy caught the gleam of the gun Lifty was pointing at him, it happened, his vision started to twist and go red, all sounds started to go quiet. The next thing he new, he was back in an urban area in an afghan village, a hostile militia member was aiming a gun at him, and he was unarmed. So, he did what he was trained to do.

Flippy lunged at an angle, grabbing Lifty's wrist with one hand, using his pinky finger to pull the hammer back to stop it from firing, all the while sending a fist straight into Lifty's elbow, snapping the arm completely. Flippy then followed up with a turn and slammed his elbow into Lifty's throat, taking him down completely.

Then, the sound returned, his vision turning back to normal, as he came back to reality. Flippy jumped up suddenly, looking around frantically. _What the hell just happened?_

Then he noticed the man with the Fedora on the ground, letting out small groans as he held his arm.

"Ah, fuck" Flippy muttered under his breath, realization dawning on him, he picked the revolver up, pulled out the revolving chamber and let the bullets fall into a dumpster. He then pushed the chamber back into the pistol and threw it onto Lifty's lap.

"Hopefully you've learnt your lesson." He said, in detached tone.

And with that, Flippy turned and left for his house.

* * *

**Author's note:** Aaaaaaaaaaand there you go! I'm hoping to have the 3rd chapter up by Wednesday at most, that's when things will get interesting! *cough cough may involve flaky cough cough* in the meantime I'm excited for your reviews!

**Bonus Author's note:** I'm trying to make the chapters longer... I'll probably go for a LOT more detail, and, more events, definitely more dialogue. You know, more than just "How about I blow your fuckin' brains out?" maybe more emotion for the characters. I'm still a new writer and everything, so criticism is appreciated.


	3. Flaky awakens

**AUTHORS NOTE: So sorry for the delay! I think I'll try for 2 chapters every weekend, if not, then 1. Anyway, enjoy a long chapter!**

* * *

As Flippy walked along the wet pavement, he was trying to still his shaking hands. It had been a while since his last incident, the flashbacks never leave nor arrive kindly, luckily he hadn't harmed anyone innocent in the process.

This wasn't the first time, and it definitely wasn't the last. His thoughts drifted back to his current position in life; he did the same things every day, eat, sleep, move, the basics for staying alive, but he had no real reason to live. He wasn't even living; he was just a walking result of mistakes and bad decisions. No normal person should be scarred to the point where it only takes a small instance of jarring events to throw their mind back to a war which they had thought they'd escaped. His mind and soul were tainted, permanently; he would never be the same again. He knew it, and he didn't know what to do about it. The fact that it was starting to rain seemed to only amplify his feelings.

He knew there were many different options, suicide in particular was one he had mulled over in his head a few times, and always ending up with a gun in his mouth, but the bullet would never come. His life wouldn't end. If he had really believed in karma then he would have thought that there was something yet to be repaid, though he couldn't guess what; he was already repaying his choices in the military with his every day life, lived in a constant reminder of the hell he survived. _Maybe today's the day._

He turned back onto his street, the rough patch of dirt he called his front lawn was in sight. Though his street was fairly remote and quiet in the city, he still passed by many houses and buildings of many colours and sizes. Each holding potential neighbors he had never met, nor had he wanted to. Thinking of all of the things he didn't do, never left him feeling like he wasted something, especially since he wasn't living much of a life anyway. Most of him died in the war.

Walking up the steps to his house, boots slapping wet pavement, he knew what he was going to do.

He closed the door behind him, not bothering to take off his wet boots, and threw his Beret onto his living room table, sliding his hands through his short, dark green hair. He went into his bedroom and opened his nightstand, inside was his custom-made .357 Magnum, made by an old friend of his. He could have chosen anything, he had plenty of weapons all over his house, but this weapon in particular had a lot of meaning to it. It had been a present Flippy's friend gave to him on his birthday; before he was murdered in a run-in with a group of African militia during an operation in Somalia. Walking into the living room, he opened the chamber, making sure it was still loaded, closed it and then placed the gun against his temple.

Being this close to death allowed memories to resurface in a harsh wave across his mind, of how every failure outweighed every success, how each mistake had made him sink deeper and deeper into the tar pit of a mindset he had now. This was one mistake he was going to make right, to earn his redemption. He was going to bring an end to the man who killed so many, for the small goal of living during a war. It was funny how the ominous end of his life seemed to give him more peace than any moment of his living life.

As his grip tightened on the gun, the sudden loud crash outside startled him completely out of his thoughts. With curiosity and concern outweighing any suicidal feelings, he put the gun on his table next to his Beret, and ran to the window. Looking outside, he could see a dark red car, toppled over onto its roof, on his lawn. He had no idea how the driver managed to crash in such a way, but his first reaction was to check on them to see if they needed help.

He opened his front door went down the steps, and over to the car. Looking around, he couldn't see anyone else on the street; they were all probably at work.

He bent over to peer into the driver side window, inside was a lady with petite features and a large amount of curled, red hair, decorated with small flakes of dandruff, in extreme contrast with her soft, pale skin. What he at first thought to be hair over her face he realized was actually a small trail of blood from her head. At the sight of it his battlefield senses kicked in, he immediately reached for the door. He wasn't by any means a body builder, but he was tall and broad shouldered, and had become fairly strong from all of the equipment he would run with during the war. He grabbed the frame of the door, and ripped it open. Drawing the knife he kept in his back pocket, he skillfully cut the seatbelt holding her in with precision, gently pulling her out of the car. It was still raining outside, so he took her into his house.

Once inside, he set her down on his living room couch, putting a plush green pillow under her head. Running to his washroom, he opened the medicine cabinet and took out his first-aid kit. He rested the first aid kit on his table and pulled and kneeled by the couch. He then took a quick look at her, making sure she didn't have a broken bone somewhere. Once he was sure, he pulled out the disinfectant and bandages from the first aid kit, then put one hand under her warm head. Brushing her hair aside, he wiped some of the blood away with tissues he had on the table, looking at the wound, it was definitely not lethal. It seemed to be a minor concussion, her forehead probably getting a small cut from a broken object. He then applied the disinfectant. Following that was his wrapping the bandage around her head, then letting her head rest gently on the pillow once again. All of this happened before his conscience had processed any of it. _Who is this lady anyway? _He had no idea who she was, or why he felt compelled to do all of this for her so immediately, or why he couldn't just call an ambulance to deal with her, but he decided he would deal with that later. In the meantime, he would make some food.

Flaky felt odd, she couldn't understand what had happened. She was floating, suspended in nothingness. Memories of what had happened to her drifted around her, so close yet never in enough detail. She couldn't tell how long she had been there; she had no sense of time passing by.

Then, a large round circle was there, floating towards her, engulfing her vision. She could feel heart rate skyrocket, her fear overwhelming. Soon it surrounded her completely. Then, she woke up.

She had a big day ahead of her, she needed to pick up the groceries, look for her mother's birthday present, get her mother some Halloween decorations, order reservations at the Chinese restaurant, and….. _where am I? _

The thought had hit her as she noticed the fact that she was lying on a couch, not her bed. Her room had a red ceiling, but this one was plastered white. It also didn't smell like her house either, there was no fruity fragrance, it smelt like a museum. She looked to the right and was greeted by the sight of a gun sitting on the table in front of her, and behind that a wall with what seemed to be a weird assortment of military gear. She quickly sat up, only to be greeted by a pain in her head, feeling a tightly wrapped bandage upon it. Fear was quickly growing inside her, she had no idea where she was, or what had happened.

Then she remembered, the phone call with her mother, the guy on the road speeding, her swiveling out of control…. The crash.

Wherever she was, she needed to get up and find help. She shakily stood, trying to calm herself, wanting to get out of this house. "Hello." She never heard him approach, but when she turned around, she met the gaze of a man in a military uniform, opened to reveal a black t-shirt and a red and brown stained pair of dog tags. His expression was mainly solemn, showing a small inkling of surprise. At his sudden appearance she fell over backward with a small scream, heart pace doubling. "I-who-ah-s-a" she couldn't formulate any words, her teeth chattering, her hands trembling. The man slid down onto one knee, putting a hand on her shoulder, "you okay? Didn't mean to scare you like that" he said while taking her hand to pull her up.

The touch of his hand replaced the tremble of her lips with red embarrassment in her cheeks. "S-sorry, I w-was just s-startled" she said shakily. "You've nothing to be sorry about; though you might want to take a seat." She did as he said and lay back on the couch, still calming herself. "What's your name?" he asked, "My name's flaky, w-what's yours?" "My name's Flippy."

"Want some water? You look thirsty." Flippy held the cup out, and Flaky took it gratefully, "Y-yes, thank you." She happily gulped down the water, only after seeing it did she realize how thirsty she was.

Then suddenly a thought flew through her mind; "How bad was it?"

"How bad was what?" Asked Flippy, confusion highlighting his features.

"The crash."

"Well, I don't know how you managed to flip your car onto its roof, and also onto my lawn, but I do know it's going to need repairs, I already called a tow truck to pick it up."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that, I- I was driving, and then I realized I never got my mothers birthday present, and th-"

"Flaky, It's okay, you haven't done anything wrong" Flippy cut her off; he wasn't in the least bit angry. After all, her crash was what stopped him from killing himself.

"B-but surely I must have interrupted something" Flaky sounded upset with herself.

"You haven't interrupted anything, I swear, do you need any help getting home by the way? It's getting late, so if you really need to I can find you a place to sleep." Flippy rarely showed much kindness to anyone, so he wondered what made this lady so special, but he felt a moral obligation. As if he needed to be kind to her; this was a surprise, he had thought compassion to have been completely beaten out of him.

"Oh, that's okay, if I remember correctly; this is the street I live on, actually."

"then that works out nicely" Flippy showed a friendly smile.

"How long was I out, anyway?" Flaky started.

"Three, maybe four hours. It was a very minor concussion, you started to wake up after a few minutes, but then you fell asleep; probably from exhaustion." Flippy replied easily, it wasn't the first time he had used his moderate medical skill.

"Would you like another drink before you go?"

Flaky gave a quick nod and rested her head in her hand, letting her hair flow around her. While Flippy went to the kitchen she stood up and walked over to the wall. Her eyes were only momentarily occupied by the items fixed on the wall, until they caught the words on a paper sheet, pinned to the wall by a large knife. Then she saw words that caught her eye specifically:

* * *

NAME: FLIPPY M-

RANK: WO

STATUS: DISCHARGED

CAUSE: -SEVERE INJURY/ILLNESS-

* * *

The paper had words crossed out in multiple areas, probably blocking out sensitive information, she turned around, sensing Flippy was coming back. "Here's your water" She took it graciously. While sipping, she took a look at him again; she noticed that he definitely had the look of a soldier. He was sturdily built; his face showed a lot of aging and trauma, shown through the scars and in the dead look his eyes would take on when he would think. Then, there was more obviously his uniform.

Politely handing it to him, she then went to the door. "Oh, and one more thing, here's the number to the mechanic" Flippy handed her a slip of paper. "I already paid for it, so don't worry." "Oh, you didn't have to-"

"Believe me, it wasn't any trouble" Flippy cut her off with a small grin. "Now then, I guess you should get going, I heard it might rain again soon. If you need any help, just come over and ask." He held the door open for her.

Even after she had gone to her own bed, Flaky still had no idea what she felt about all of this.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Again, sorry for the wait. Also, tell me, do you think the upcoming chapters should be longer and less frequent, or shorter (in amount of events, not detail or quality) and have 2 every week? Post a review!**


	4. Chapter 4:small chapter (sorry)

Flippy emptied his glass of vodka. The burning at the back of his throat was soothing; lulling him into a cozy drift away from the morbid nightmare he had awoken from not long before. Of the many nightmares he had experienced, this one was one of the worst. It was so real, so disturbing, he awoke still partially in it, screaming and beating the wall with his fists. This wasn't the normal symbolic inner demons bout he would receive almost every night, this was a clear memory that scarred him deeply. In this nightmare he relived the time he was captured during an enemy counter-offensive in Afghanistan.

He was sitting on the back of a truck in a small convoy when a well positioned rocket took out the front munitions truck, making the perfect road stop. He had no time to move before the volley of rockets following the former took the entire convoy from the side. He crawled away from the wreckage, choking on ash and stumbling over rubble, only to receive a boot in the face. He had awakened to a stone cell in some kind of large prison compound to the warden standing over him. He later found that he was the highest ranked in those who were captured, and so he had the most Intel on their movements. This meant that he ended up enduring two weeks of watching his mens' arms broken, fingernails ripped out, eyes gouged. They were whipped, drowned, hung, shot, electrocuted and the torture went on and on. He still didn't say anything, and he barely got out with his eyes intact.

Even thinking about it shallowed his breathing, quickened his heart rate, made his muscles tense. He could still hear the lashes the whip would make, the screaming echoing through the halls. He filled a second glass and sipped at it, then sunk down onto the floor.

* * *

Flaky sat at her kitchen table, sleepily drinking warm milk, trying to get to sleep.

She knew after all of the events that had occurred there was just too much mental activity for her to just sleep. She had too much to think about, always coming back to worry. She had already called her mother and told her about the crash, at the fact that she sounded okay her mother decided there wasn't much else that needed doing, and with that, hung up.

Flaky decided that she owed Flippy, and she would look into paying him a visit sometime in the upcoming day and possibly get him a gift. Or at least something, though she didn't know what he liked or what he could use. Things like this always drove Flaky in circles; she hated the fact of her lacking in showing her own appreciation.

That settled it; Flaky would run over to Flippy's come morning and figure something out.

**AUTHORS NOTE: This chapter is very short, sorry, needed to get something out there, plus I'm gonna add a larger chapter fairly soon, hopefully next weekend if not Friday.**


	5. A trip to the store

**Note: SOoOooOOooOOo Sorry for the wait! I have been dealing with getting a new computer soon and focus issues on my part. Anyway, here is chapter five!**

Flippy slowly walked through the local market, looking for all of the basic food items that he would need for the next 2 weeks. He disliked being in a store with other people shuffling around, getting in his way with a barricade of greetings and small talk. He would spend no more than 30 minutes at the store, usually ignoring everyone around him, and get what he needed as fast as possible. It would usually take 20 minutes, had it not been for the 10 minute wait to get more pills that he would endure once every few weeks.

This week, he was all out of pills, even the small emergency ones he had just in case. The previous night he had nothing but alcohol to suppress the nightmares. He walked through the brightly lit isles, filling his basket with bread, butter, milk, coffee, fruits, meat, and a few of the vegetables he actually liked. He had almost finished, all that was left to do was wait for them to be done processing and retrieving his pills in the in-store pharmacy. He walked down past shelves littered with multitudes of different foods, though he rarely even glanced at them, he was fairly simple in that notion. He never got too creative when making a meal for himself. Suddenly a small figure darted out of the isle directly in front of him, running straight into his chest.

"Oh! S-sorry, didn't see y- Flippy?" He recognized the smaller voice, he remembered her from the crash.

"It's not a problem. Flaky, right?" after the previous night, the alcohol still had a grip on him, though very faint by that point.

"Yup, that's me" Flaky wore a timid expression, she hated awkward conversations; especially when the conversation occurs after doing something as stupid as running straight into him.

"How are you holding up?" Flippy decided to move the conversation on to a more important topic.

"I feel fine now; I actually went over to your house earlier to ask what you'd want for a thank-you present." Flaky didn't bother to try hiding the heat that rushed into her cheeks.

"Oh, that won't be necessary, I don't need any compensation."

"Surely there is something I can do for you, you saved my life!"

"Believe me, I don't need anything." Flippy meant it, a life saved for a life saved. He glanced at his watch, realizing that his medication was probably processed and ready for him to take.

"Sorry, I have to get going, I'll see you later."

Flaky had gotten all of her food already and since she still didn't know what Flippy would like as a gift, she decided to go home and sleep on it.

Flippy felt odd, he could tell that Flaky wasn't going to take no for an answer, though he also knew that he couldn't just casually say "You interrupted my attempt at suicide, I helped you, so I think we're even." They needed to sit down and get things straight properly.

He walked out of the store, taking a long look at the morning-lit buildings around him, noting how many people take joy out of such a sight, and wondering how much of him had to be broken in order to not feel anything at all about it.

He walked down to the spot where he parked his car, until he noticed that flaky was standing awkwardly at the face of an alley, slowly backing away from it. It was clear by her stance that she was about to run. It was then that he noticed the all too familiar man in the fedora, his arm casted; he emanated anger and was most definitely unhappy from the beating he received at Flippy's hands. He was accompanied by someone else, a brother, perhaps?

Flippy hadn't realized that he was approaching them until he was half way across the parking lot. His hands were empty, though he didn't remember putting down the grocery bags. He could taste the tension in the air, he knew there was going to be trouble.

* * *

"Don't tell me your about to _run_, little girl."

Flaky had no idea what to do, she was generally scared of dealing with people normally, but this was worse than the odd idiot; these were two thugs who weren't about to take no for an answer.

"You gonna run home and call the cops on us, is that it?"

"N-no! No I swear I-"

"Hey Shifty, I don't think we can let her run off with our names an' all that cash. Maybe we should relieve her of some of it, eh?"

"Way ahead of ya." Shifty pulled a large rust-covered metal rod from beneath his jacket, wearing a joyous expression.

"Maybe we should make sure you can't call the cops, eh? Knock in a few teeth here and there; break an arm or two, what's the difference?"

Flaky was speechless, she was always afraid of this kind of thing, but even so she still was never prepared for this. Her hands were shaking, fear formed in a rock that nestled in the bottom of her stomach, she couldn't even scream.

"Here's an idea, you leave. _Immediately_." Flippy's voice seeped anger and venom, he still didn't understand what made Flaky so special, he had rarely gotten so angry at anyone else's troubles. And he definitely didn't know why he felt he had to defend her. But he knew that he wasn't letting these thugs push her around.

"Wanna give us a reason, you stupid fuck?" Shifty's arrogance was repulsive.

"I'll give you one last chance to leave her alone before I feed you your teeth." Flippy had no intention of letting them go anywhere, he had already felt his vision going red, the ground beneath him shattering to pieces. Shouts and gunshots sounded, boots on pavement echoed around him, he could see lost children calling out to their dead parents and siblings. He never heard what shifty said next. He didn't need to hear or even have his eyes open to sense the metal rod coming.

He evaded the swing with a quick step back, countering with a swift, heavy punch directly into Shifty's jaw. The sickening crack of bone was music to his ears, the screams of pain making lovely chorus. Flippy followed with a second devastating punch directly into his gut, he reveled in the patterns of blood spilling out the corners of Shifty's mouth, watching with blood thirst as Shifty fell to the ground. Flippy's attention instantly locked on a terrified Lifty, who was midway through turning tail and running.

Lifty never stood a chance as he sat with two hands clasped around his throat, staring into the wild eyes of Flippy.

"Huh, agh, I ca-"

"Do you know the difference between a broken arm and a broken neck?" Flippy's tone was pure monotone, no real emotion, death emanating from his eyes.

"Look –gah- I- ughh- sorry, I didn't-" Lifty could barely breathe.

"The difference is a broken arm can heal fully and often doesn't kill you. Understand?" Flippy released his grip on lifty's throat, punching him directly in the temple for good measure.

* * *

It was only after he turned to look at the terrified expression on Flaky's face did everything come back into focus, as if he had just left a dream, the red haze lifted, and then what had just happened sunk in .

"You should probably get going" Flippy's face was blank.

Without another word, flaky turned and left.

**Note: Again, my apologies. The next two chapters are where I plan on things getting especially interesting. (Possible romantic start inbound) Also the upcoming chapters should be bigger! Or if not then than you can definitely expect some bigger-ness in chapters over the winter/Christmas break.**


	6. The Article

**Sorry for the absence! I didn't plan on taking this long; I've been busy with the things taking place now that it's close to Christmas. I definitely plan on multiple chapters over the Christmas break. One important Matter to discuss though, I know many of you who are reading this have something to say, and honestly I like proper criticism, so please review! It will only help improve my writing. And, back to the story!**

* * *

It had been a week since Flippy's episode, and Flaky still didn't know what she should, or even could, do.

She still felt that she owed Flippy though he didn't seem to want any of it, and she didn't know why. She also didn't know what suddenly caused him to be so horrific with the way he fought the two guys in the alleyway. And then there was what he said to the one man, he sounded like he was losing it, as if he wasn't really there. She was sure that he was going to kill them, but he just, stopped, as if switching gears. The look in his eyes really made her think she was next, but all he did was say "You should probably go now." She didn't think she would want to stay longer any way.

Flaky sat at her kitchen table, sipping at a small green cup of tea.

The bigger question was _why_? Why is Flippy like this? What caused him to become this way? Flaky remembered all of the weapons in his living room, his combat jacket, his dog tags…. He had a lot of military regalia. And then there were the papers, "CAUSE: -SEVERE INJURY/ILLNESS-" that's what it had said on the front. What happened to him during whatever war he fought to get him discharged?

The more she tried to put the pieces together the more she realized she didn't have most of the pieces. Flaky had no idea why she was fixated on figuring Flippy out. A term her Grandfather used to say when she was a child, "curiosity killed the cat". Hopefully that phrase won't summarize events to come. The thought of him lecturing her forced her lips into an embarrassed smile. She had her fair share of scars from being too curious, too daring when she was little. And now the thought of always messing up or nosing around too much gave her a constant anxiousness and made her fairly jumpy. Though she couldn't tell what trouble there might be in simply asking Flippy, his display at the store showed a lot more to him than he let on.

A sudden ringing of her phone startled her out of her thoughts. Though slightly irritated, she walked through the open door of her bedroom and over to her nightstand. Who would be calling so late at night? In answer she heard a shrill squeak which left Flaky fumbling for the phone. Flaky knew only one person who could produce that sound.

Once she got her grip back on the phone, Flaky put the phone to her ear.

"Uh, h-hello?" Flaky had her hands readily holding the phone in a way so that the next squeak, if there was one, wouldn't deafen her.

"FLAKY! It's me, Giggles!" Flaky's friend Giggles, one of the very few people she still knew from highschool, and one of the fewer still group of friends she had. But what was Giggles doing at 11:30 at night?

"H-hey, Giggles. Uh, w-why are you calling me this late?"

"LATE? You think this is LATE? Seriously? Anyway, I heard you were in a car accident and needed to make sure you didn't die or something!" Flaky had long since gotten used to Giggles' melodramatic ways of living.

"Giggles? You do realize the crash happened about a week ago, right?" Why hadn't Giggles called her earlier?

"Oh I know! But you weren't picking up for the last few days!" Though she wasn't the most social person in the world, Flaky couldn't recall any phone calls or messages she had missed. The thought brought a red shade to her cheeks.

"Oh! S-sorry about that! I- I didn't-"

"I'm just kidding! I've been away visiting my mother for the last few days and just recently found out!" Giggles interrupted. Flaky felt the need to change topics.

"Anyways, if that's all then I'll just see you later, okay?" Flaky was about to hang up when she was bombarded with a flurry of nos and waits.

Flaky waited.

"I wasn't finished! I also wanted to know if you wouldn't mind joining Splendid, Petunia and I for lunch tomorrow!" As far as she knew she didn't have any plans for the next day as it was.

"Uh, okay. I-I guess so, sure."

"Great! But one last eensy weensy tiny thing."

Flaky waited.

"How _exactly _did you get out of that crash? I heard it was pretty bad."

Flaky let out a sigh. How would she explain the issue with Flippy to her? She decided to explain it from Flippy rescuing her to the incident at the alleyway outside the store, and about how she was trying to figure out Flippy. Giggles had remained silent throughout the explanation; flaky didn't even know if she was still there.

"Um, Giggles? You still there?"

"Huh? Oh! Oh, sorry, I was just thinking. I think I've seen this Flippy guy once before. But more to the point, I think I know what might be the matter with Flippy." That caught Flaky's full attention.

"Y-You what?"

"I said, I think I know what might be the matter with Flippy, I remember Hearing about it being a large mental thing among soldiers. I think its….." The pause had Flaky holding her breath for no definable reason.

"PB- No that's not it. Uh, PTSD, that's it!" Flaky had heard that title before, but couldn't remember what it was.

"Um, what is PTSD again?"

"If Flippy was a soldier, than he most likely has it. If I remember correctly it has something to do with a mental breakdown or something from exposure to warlike events. You might wanna look it up." Flaky was intrigued. A mental breakdown? But, Flippy seemed fairly stable. At least, most of the time.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow Giggles."

"Yup. Tell me what you find!"

"I will."

Giggles hung up.

Flaky put the phone down and made her way over to her laptop.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE BEFORE READING** **: THE FOLLOWING ARTICLE ON PTSD IS NOT OWNED/MADE BY ME AND WAS ORIGINALLY WRITTEN BY **Maureen Donohue **AND THE PAGE ITSELF WITH THE FULL ARTICLE CAN BE FOUND HERE:** health/post-traumatic-stress-disorder **AGAIN, I DO NOT OWN THIS, I MERELY WANTED TO SHARE IT FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF THE STORY. Now then, back to the story!**

* * *

She searched on _Yahoo! _and decided to click on the first website. She found an extensive article on PTSD; it read:

* * *

**"_What Is Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)?_ **

**_Written by Maureen Donohue  
Reviewed on July 15, 2012 by George Krucik, MD_**

_Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a debilitating anxiety disorder that occurs after experiencing or witnessing a traumatic event that involves either a real or perceived threat of injury or death. This can include a natural disaster, combat, an assault, physical or sexual abuse, or other trauma._

_PTSD sufferers have a heightened sense of danger and impending doom. Their natural "fight or flight response" is damaged, causing them to feel stressed or fearful even in safe situations._

_Once called "shell shock" or "battle fatigue," PTSD has recently received more public attention because of the high number of war veterans who have the disorder. However, PTSD can happen to anyone at any age. PTSD occurs as a response to chemical changes in the brain and is not the result of a character flaw or weakness._

_**What Are the Symptoms of PTSD?** _

_The symptoms of PTSD can disrupt normal activities and interfere with your ability to function. They can be triggered by words, sounds, or situations that act as reminders of trauma. Symptoms fall into the following three groups: _

**_Reliving, which consists of:_**

_flashbacks, in which it feels as if the event is occurring over and over_

_intrusive, vivid memories of the event_

_frequent nightmares about the event_

_mental or physical discomfort when reminded of the event_

**_Avoidance, which includes:_**

_emotional apathy _

_detachment from or lack of interest in daily activities_

_amnesia (memory loss) about the actual event_

_inability to express feelings_

_avoidance of people or situations that are reminders of the event_

**_Increased arousal, which is characterized by:_**

_difficulty concentrating_

_startling easily_

_exaggerated response to startling events_

_constantly feeling on guard (hypervigilance)_

_irritability or bouts of anger_

_difficulty falling or staying asleep_

**_People with PTSD may be plagued by guilt, worry, and depression. In addition, they are susceptible to panic attacks, which can cause:_**

_agitation or excitability_

_dizziness_

_lightheadedness or fainting_

_racing or pounding heart_

_headache_

_How Is PTSD Diagnosed? _

_There is no specific test to diagnose PTSD. This condition may be difficult to diagnose because sufferers are reluctant to recall the precipitating trauma or discuss their symptoms. A mental health specialist, such as a psychiatrist or psychologist, is best qualified to diagnose PTSD. _

_To be diagnosed with PTSD, you must have experienced all of the following for onemonth or longer:_

_at least one reliving symptom_

_at least three avoidance symptoms_

_at least two increased arousal symptoms_

_Your symptoms must be serious enough to interfere with daily activities, making it difficult to go to work or school, or to be around friends and family members."_

* * *

Flaky found herself wondering, if Flippy had this, what had he experienced to land him in such a horrible state? She needed answers, and after tomorrow, she was going to find them.


	7. Author update

**Sorry everyone! I have decided to put this story on hiatus for now, I don't know if I will ever continue it, and I'm sorry for this. I'm doing this because I am dissapointed with the way it turned out, there are too many inaccuracies in order to reach the level of verisimilitude that was desired. I am going to move on to a project I have wanted to work on for a while, but it won't be on this site, since it isn't fanfiction. However, I will write oneshots and other things on here; so if you think my work is of any value, then you should stick around, I might throw something out there.**

**Once again, dearest apologies, and have a good day.**

**-Legitwit**


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